


it's warmer with you next to me

by earlgrey_milktea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cold Weather, M/M, New Years, SO MUCH FLUFF, a whole lotta repetition, can be read as just /really/ close friends, i want a kotatsu, japanese new years traditions, there's a kotatsu, which i googled, winter is too cold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3102521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s content where he is, next to his captain with the crazy bedhead and the mischievous smirk, always was, but in these moments where he’s surrounded by familiar people, comfortable sounds, and so much warmth, Kenma likes it the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's warmer with you next to me

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [z tobą u boku jest mi cieplej](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10145081) by [wrappedinchocolateblankets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrappedinchocolateblankets/pseuds/wrappedinchocolateblankets)



> it's a little late but since i'm ignoring the fact that winter break is going to be ending in a couple days, here's a fluffy-ish kuroken fic for y'all~
> 
> *raises hand* i admit to having little to no knowledge of actual japanese customs and to having googled everything in here (and even then still skimming over the details in a very vague way) so please feel free to correct me!

When Kenma blinks open his eyes just barely, it takes him four seconds to register the muted white slipping in through the half-closed blinds, and then his eyes slide shut again. He turns slightly, burrowing deeper into his covers and the warm, familiar body heat next to him on the bed. The morning cold and whatever the new year is bringing can wait.

Too bad the arms holding him stir only a minute later, and then there’s a huff of hot air next to his ear and a low voice going, “I know you’re awake.”

Kenma doesn’t reply, save for a small noise somewhere between a groan and a purr. He snuggles deeper against Kuroo, whose chest moves as he chuckles. Fingers run through his hair, and he hums in contentment, still half-asleep. He likes this part of mornings, when Kuroo stays over and it’s warm between the two of them, slow and lazy, like nothing else in the whole wide world can disturb them. It’s safe in Kuroo’s arms, always was, but in these half-awake moments, Kenma likes it the most.

“Come on, Kenma,” whispers Kuroo, nudging the smaller boy gently. “We’ve gotta get up and get dressed.”

“No,” replies Kenma, voice muffled by Kuroo’s shirt.

“We told them we’ll be there,” reminds Kuroo. He ruffles Kenma’s head, pressing his lips to his forehead briefly. The third year rolls out of bed, repeating for Kenma to follow.

Frowning slightly, Kenma opens his eyes. He sits up, but instead of leaving the warmth of the bed, he wraps the blankets around him like a cocoon and watches Kuroo dig through the back of his closet for clothes that will fit him. They’ve slept over at each other’s house so often that half their clothes have migrated into the other’s closet. Kenma doesn’t mind, because Kuroo’s wardrobe mostly consists of hoodies and sweatshirts and when Kenma wears them they’re always very big but very comfortable, and it never hurts to see that small smile on Kuroo’s face when he shows up wearing the older boy’s clothes.

“Your hair is ridiculous,” Kenma says, shuffling in his blanket burrito.

“Shaddup,” returns Kuroo without any bite in his voice. It’s a recurring exchange between them, an easy pattern to fall into, something that hasn’t changed, and probably won’t ever change, just like Kuroo’s black hair defying gravity each day.

Pulling on a black shirt, Kuroo goes over to where Kenma hasn’t moved. “Yo, wake up, sleepyhead.” He tugs at the blankets around him. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

“But it’s cold,” mumbles Kenma.

“It won’t be cold if you get up and move.”

“... No.”

Kuroo sighs slightly, before fixing his stare on the second year, and Kenma has a moment of fear shooting through him before the older boy launches himself at the bed. There’s an ugly squawk, some scrabbling and elbows in the face, huffing and puffing that sounds weirder than it should be out of context, and then a loud, “Ohoho!” as Kuroo pushes himself up again, triumphantly tossing the blankets to the end of the bed.

Kenma huffs angrily, frowning from where he’s lying on his back, shivering from the lack of blankets. Kuroo just gives him one of his smirks, pulling him up. He allows the older boy to pull a red sweater over his head, still miffed about the rude awakening.

“Wear more layers, it looks like it’s going to snow.”

Kenma nods, following the other boy out of the room after dressing himself. His mother is in the kitchen when they emerge, and she offers them breakfast. They sit and chat over toast and scrambled eggs, or Kuroo makes conversation with his mother while Kenma taps away on his phone and tries to stop Kuroo from piling more food on his plate at the same time.

“Pick up some mandarins on your way back, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Be careful!”

“We will!”

Kuroo stops Kenma before he walks out the door, wrapping a scarf around his neck. “You catch colds too easily.”

Kenma shrugs, zipping up his coat while Kuroo jams a beanie on his head, squashing some of his hair down. Only when they’re all bundled up in sweaters, jackets, and scarves do they step out the door. Kenma already has his phone out with tinny noises pinging from a game by the time they make it out of the apartment building, their breaths turning into little white puffs.

“You didn’t bring gloves?” Kuroo looks pointedly at Kenma’s red fingers.

The second year sniffs, putting his phone away. He rubs his hands together, but it doesn’t take away the cold nipping at his hands. Kenma sighs. Winter is too cold.

A larger hand envelops his own, and immediately Kenma’s hands start flooding with warmth. Kuroo pulls their locked hands into his pocket, where the inner lining traps their combined heat, allowing Kenma’s fingers to thaw from the frozen air.

“Better?”

Kenma hums, not looking up. There’s a pause, and then: “What about my other hand?”

Kuroo rolls his eyes. “You have your own pockets, Kenma.”

 

**(ノ´∀｀)ノ*.ﾟ･｡:*:．ﾟ**

 

“Captain! Kenma! Over here!”

Yamamoto and Inuoka is waving just inside the shrine gates, where the rest of their teammates are gathered. The captain and the setter makes their way to their team, weaving through the crowd lining up to ring the bell. Kenma is nearly swept away by the sea of people before Kuroo latches a hand onto the back of his jacket and drags him to safety.

“Jeez, you guys took so long,” complains Yamamoto. The mohawk-head grins as he offers them some taiyaki.

“Sorry, sorry.” Kuroo grins lazily. “Did you guys already go up for prayers?”

“Not yet. We were waiting for you.” Kai gestures towards the shrine. “Shall we?”

The Nekoma volleyball club makes their way to the shrine, chatting aimlessly about their New Year’s and what their littlest cousin did or what their eldest brother had to say about university. The air is still cold, but their voices are warm, and Kenma finds that he doesn’t mind it at all. He stands beside Kuroo when they clap their hands together to make a wish. He doesn’t really think about it, but he peeks up at his friend. He catches Kuroo’s gaze by accident, and makes to look away again, but not before he sees Kuroo’s secretive wink. Kenma sighs to himself, his own lips twitching into a small smile. This part of New Years is familiar, too. He thinks he likes it, even if his scarf is pulled up to his nose and the crowd is bigger than his liking.

They stay at the shrine for a while, talking about volleyball and school and the new year and the no-show-snow, while Lev and Inuoka and Yamamoto drags everyone around, intent on trying every single food stand there. Yaku is wearing his usual half-stern, half-exasperated expression that shows up around the excitable first years and Yamamoto, chasing them down when they become too rowdy. Even the quieter players, Yuuki and Fukunaga, are smiling like they’re having fun. Kuroo just laughs and waves them on, talking with his vice captain while Kenma has his phone out again beside him. Kenma is content watching his team in their festive cheer, even when Lev bugs him about the ‘small luck’ fortune he gets.

“See you at school!”

The two childhood friends wave at their teammates as they head home in separate directions. The air is still frozen, but they’re used to it by now. Kenma walks next to Kuroo on the street, already thinking about which game he’s going to play when they get home.

“Hey, hold on,” says Kuroo, stopping outside a shop. “Let’s get some mandarins, yeah?”

Kenma waits as the other boy greets the lady inside, asking about the price of a box of oranges. His eyes drift across the street, where a bakery is still open. He catches sight of the sign first, bright pink with vaguely round red shapes and the words _Freshly Baked!_ right above an arrow pointing down to a beautiful, breathtaking, brilliant apple pie. He’s pretty sure his mouth is watering just at the sight of the masterpiece behind the window.

When Kuroo comes back out with a box of oranges in his arms, Kenma tugs on his sleeve. His head is still turned towards the bakery, his eyes wide and practically shooting hearts. “Kuro,” he says simply.

The older boy follows his gaze until he too spots the best thing man has ever made. He sighs. “Fine,” says Kuroo, rolling his eyes, “we can have apple pie after dinner, okay?”

Kenma nods, his whole aura brightening, despite the mostly blank expression he wears. Kuroo chuckles, trailing after him to the bakery. He watches the second year buy the pie with a small grin on his face. The way the younger boy becomes all excited over little things like apple pies or new games always makes him happy, if only because of the tiniest hint of a small smile on the kid’s face, because it’s usually neutral and distant the rest of the time. Times like this, when Kenma’s practically glowing with simple joy, Kuroo can’t help but smile along with him.

 

**．:*:｡･ﾟ.*ヽ(´∀｀ヽ)**

 

They end up in Kuroo’s house, sort of because his parents are still out but mostly because his living room has a kotatsu. Within minutes of entering the place, Kenma has already situated himself in the kotatsu in front of the tv, eyes half closed in contentment and the heat.

“Oi, make room for the oranges.” Kuroo nudges him with his foot, placing the box on the tabletop. He turns on the tv, while picking up an orange. “Want one?”

Kenma nods, shuffling over to lean his head on the other boy’s shoulder. He’s not freezing anymore, but he appreciates the extra warmth and feeling of another person close to him, especially in the winter months.

“What did you wish for today?” asks Kuroo, holding up half the orange to Kenma’s face.

Kenma shrugs, plucking the oranges out of the air. “Nothing special,” he replies, the same as every year they return from the shrine. Kuroo hums back at him, peeling another orange without taking his eyes off the tv, a small smile on his face.

They sit in comfortable silence, occasionally commenting on the latest singer on the screen or the new trending food item being introduced. Kenma can feel his eyes droop as the time goes on, belly full from the oranges and body warm from the kotatsu. He dimly registers Kuroo’s hand running through his hair before his eyes slip shut for the last time, and he’s asleep, dreaming of apple pies, volleyball courts, and messy bed hair that refuses to be tamed.

 

**(ノ´∀｀)ノ*.ﾟ･｡:*:．ﾟ・☆A HAPPY NEW YEAR☆・ﾟ．:*:｡･ﾟ.*ヽ(´∀｀ヽ)**

 

When Kuroo’s parents come back home to prepare dinner, they find the two boys sprawled against each other in the kotatsu, the tv still on and Kenma’s face buried in the crook of Kuroo’s neck. They smile at the kids before smiling at each other, the scene not unusual and so very welcoming to come home to.

Kuroo’s mother wakes them up. “Wake up, Tetsurou-kun, Kenma-kun. It’s dinnertime.”

Kuroo blinks his eyes open, and nods. He looks back down at the boy snuggled against him. “Hey, Kenma,” he whispers. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Kenma makes a small noise, somewhere between a groan and a purr. He rolls over and tries to fall back asleep, but Kuroo’s there and poking him in the back. He sighs, sitting up.

“Come on, we’re having apple pie afterwards, right?” Kuroo sends him his signature smirk, knowing that he’s got him hook, line, and sinker.

Kenma glances over at him and sighs again, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. He pretends to be annoyed when Kuroo reaches over to ruffle his hair, even though he knows his friend sees right through it. He gets up, following Kuroo into the kitchen. And when he’s greeted warmly by Kuroo’s parents, seated around the people he’s come to regard as a second family, he smiles to himself.

Times like this, when there’s laughter in the air and Kuroo’s piling food into his bowl despite his protests, Kenma realizes he doesn’t mind it at all. It’s familiar, it’s comfortable, and the cold doesn’t matter at all. He’s content where he is, next to his captain with the crazy bedhead and the mischievous smirk, always was, but in these moments where he’s surrounded by familiar people, comfortable sounds, and so much warmth, Kenma likes it the most.

**Author's Note:**

> i just want to cuddle with someone b/c winter is too cold
> 
> (frick i forgot the mochi ~~i don't even like mochi??~~ )
> 
> twitter/tumblr @puddingcatbae


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